A Sonnet

Ten syllables to salvage face, Thirteen bottles and some time to waste. Fourteen lines to express myself Endless depths to dredge through the wreck. My words are weak, I speak them slow. I break the dam let the water flow. I don’t want to drown but I’d rather not breathe Rather produce some tangible feat. Some opus of my opulent abilities My poignant product of passion’d artistry While they stare at the sculpture I’m sifting Through the marble dust to see what was missing. In order for me to create this display What parts needed to be thrown away?